


Wound

by saarebitch



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Gore warning, Violence Warning, death warning, sexual content warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saarebitch/pseuds/saarebitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine hunting trip goes wrong, and Elain and Revas learn not all wounds are physical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valley

**Author's Note:**

> Revas Lavellan belongs to drathe on tumblr

A trip into the Autini Valley of the Vimmark mountains was a dangerous endeavour for any person who didn’t live and breath its primordial air. The snow laid in heavy blankets over its thick, coniferous forests, hiding its secrets from those too weak to trespass into the silent sanctuary. Roaming predators stalked the forests, treacherous slopes led to the ragged crags of the mountains, and an untamed river swept the unaware into its dark undertow, never to be seen again.

As Elain travelled through it now, she felt as though her feet hitting the ground made the very land itself quake. There was something immensely empowering about striding through this ancient valley without fear. She felt as if she were a spectral ruler of this place; its queen who was paid her tribute in the blood of the unworthy. And now she walked on the slowly thawing ground, listening to the melting snow from the peaks of the mountains rush into the valley, prepared to do what was necessary for keep this place pure.

She hunted with Revas and Elder Jarren. It would be the first of many with them to prepare her for the Trials of the Hunt. The Trials were arduous, often deadly challenges that tested young huntresses against the wilderness of Thedas. If she succeeded, she would be declared the Maiden of the Hunt, the arbiter of the wilderness. She would act as the mediator between the clan and its tribulations against the wild nature of the world, summoning the will of Andruil to guide her. Her entire life has so far been a training ground for the position, a holy calling. She would not fail.

The trio had only just entered the valley that morning. The clan had camped on the open plains a few miles away; even the Dalish dared not enter the valley unprovoked. They came to hunt the undead that haunted this place, souls lost to Autini’s siren call. The veil to the Beyond was weak here, allowing the desiccated corpses of those unfortunate wanderers to be possessed by invading spirits. The domain of the Beyond was reserved for the Keeper, but once the spirits were warped by this world, it was those trained in killing who gave them freedom. And Elain was very good at setting creatures free.

“We’ll need to follow the river further in,” Jarren motioned north, “undead won’t be this close to the plains. We should start seeing some by tomorrow.”

“I hope we don’t run into any sylvans,” Revas said, his eyes darting to the trees towering over them to the west.

“Sylvans will usually lay dormant unless powerful emotion draws them out,” Jarren continued forward. “As long as you two don’t start fighting like children, we should be fine.” He turned and winked at Elain, and she smiled back. Revas merely nodded and kept a watchful eye on the treeline.

“It won’t be a prob—” Revas and Jarren both stopped suddenly. Elain turned her back to them and checked their flank. A twig snapped. It resonated too loudly to be small prey. Not loud enough to be a bear, or enough movement to be wolves. One snapped twig and a pause indicated hitched breath. Something that knew that breathing would give it away. Something intelligent, not undead.

Revas slowly moved to the north of where the noise came from, feet silent. Jarren held ground, his bow pointed directed towards the sound. Elain took the high ground to the south, preparing to rain down arrows on any intruders.

The melting snow left a hazy mist just above knee high, obstructing her view into forest. No tracks, not that she could see. Revas approached the edge of the trees, his bow drawn, his concentration unbreakable. But nothing was there. There wasn’t even the sign of something that might have been there. Just the sound of a snapped twig.

The three of them moved in formation around the circumference of the origin of the noise. They were traveling next to the river, so the intruder could not have escaped that way. Revas had covered the north, Elain the south, Jarren holding position against the river. The creator of the noise could only have gone west. West was the forest, the dense sentinel of the dark river.

Jarren looked at Revas, whose gaze seem to penetrate the trees themselves. He nodded to the elder hunter and motioned to Elain with his chin, wordlessly telling her they were moving forward. They pressed into the treeline, blending in like shadows cast against the damp forest ground. The hazy mist was more difficult to navigate here. It choked the trunks of the pine trees like a noxious gas.

Then they heard more. Snapping twigs, ground crunching under feet, soft whispers. The trio moved to the cover of the base of a nearby tree, its lowest branches sweeping over the ground in shelter. They watched in silence as they saw the feet of two men, axes at their waists, guiding an ox pulling a caged wagon.

“The elves on the plains right now aren’t good for grabbing. We’d need the entire company for that. There’s about 300 of them, but not all of them are fighters,” the large man with a limp in his right leg, a previous injury, said lowly.

“We’ll just pick off any scouting parties they send in here then move out. Should be able to grab at least 10. Lokka will give us 40 sovereigns a head if they’re all strong. His clients like Dalish for estate labor,” replied a younger man, favored his right arm, shield at his back.

Elain looked to Revas and saw his bow already aimed. The mist made the shot impossible, but he was angry enough to try. Jarren saw too late as well, and as the shot grazed the larger man in the arm, he pushed the younger elves back east. The man gave a shocked cry, and the trio were out of the pine shelter heading for open ground.

Their feet slammed against the ground as they took flight. She heard a distant pounding of the men giving chase. The fight would be simple, if only they could reach open ground. The light of the valley shone through the trees, a tantalizing look into their salvation, and their best chance to survive.

The treeline was only a few strides away when she heard Jarren give a guttural shout and fall to the ground with a tremendous force. She stopped and ran to his side, only to see an arrow sticking out of the base of his neck. He was gone.

“Revas! They have archers! It’s a trap!” Elain shouted, her heart in her stomach.

“Don’t stop Elain!” Revas shouted back, slowing his pace enough for her to catch up to him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him as they broke through the trees. They flew to the river and went south, trying desperately to get the higher ground. It was their only chance now.

“DOWN!” She cried as she saw the archer break out of the treeline and aim. They dove into the ground, rolling from the physical force. The arrow flew long and missed, giving Revas enough time to draw his bow and fire an arrow into the archer’s chest. The archer staggered, then fell to his knees, and finally collapsed. One dead, but three more came rushing out of the trees.

“Son of a BITCH! Don’t let them get away and warn the other knife-ears!” Shouted the large man whose arm was grazed by Revas’ mishot arrow. The group spread, another archer taking aim. Revas put him down easily, and Elain the younger man running towards them.

They realized all too late that it was a distraction, with two more men withdrawing from the forest and falling on their flank. Elain was closest to the treeline and faced both men falling on her at once. There was not enough distance to draw her bow. The first man, bearded and stinking of sweat and blood was on her. He swung a blunt end of a sword to her face, hitting her nose, an audible crack.

Her blood poured from her face, watering her eyes. She heard rather than saw Revas get between her and the second man, his knife drawn to taste vulnerable flesh. Infuriated, she pulled her own knife and refocused on her target.

The bearded man could not draw his own sword back without giving her enough room to kill, so he danced around her. His was large, but unbalanced. He must’ve already killed that day, going by the copious blood on him. He was tired, unsteady. She moved swiftly into his core space, a quick elbow to his neck knocking him back. As he stumbled, she sunk her blade into his stinking chest. Blood gushed from the wound. She couldn’t move back fast enough to avoid it, and it covered her in the man’s death. The blood distracted her so much, she did not see the leader, the large limping man, raising an axe high above his head. She was going to die.

Revas was in front of the axe in an instant, his bow above his head, deflecting the blow from hitting her. It hit his bow, breaking it in half. The axe still fell and buried itself into his chest. The larger man fell forward at his blow being disrupted, enough time for Elain to pounce. She let out a cry of rage and pushed her knife in his gut. He pulled back and fell down, still breathing. Her knife was on his throat instantly and she sliced him ear to ear, taking pleasure in the gasping noises he made as he died. She wanted to watch every last ounce of blood spill from his body onto the ground, but Revas had gone down. She needed to focus for him.

“Revas,” she ran towards him, sinking to his side where he fell. He face was cut open, skin hanging loose from his jaw. The axe was embedded in his chest and his breathing was rapid, his eyes wide.

“No no no no,” she muttered as her hands frantically searched for the best way to help him. “Please Rev, please. Just hold on.”

She steeled herself, closing her eyes and settling her breathing. Her hands wrapped around the blunt hilt of the axe. With a clean jerk, she pulled the weapon from his chest, causing him howl. The wound was deep, pulpy flesh clinging to bone, blood pooling over and flowing onto the ground. Thinking quickly, she sawed off a large piece of the lambswool tunic covering her armor. She grabbed a poultice of elfroot from her belt and poured it over the cloth. Gently, she compressed the cloth into the wound to stop the bleeding. It seemed to help, but he needed get to a healer.

He was too heavy to carry by herself. If she tried, she’d lose him. Think think, Elain. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of horses whickering. The slavers must have used horses to get here.

“Hold still Rev, please. I need to get those horses to get you back to camp. Please,” she planted a kiss on his pale lips and took off into a sprint.

The horses were nearby, but were also very stubborn creatures. She hushed and cooed one enough to get it to follow her, but the beast was nervous. It could sense her own panic. Pulling its reins, she forced it back to the area by the river where Revas lay dying. Please Rev please. I’m coming. I’m coming.


	2. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine hunting trip goes wrong, and Elain and Revas learn not all wounds are physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revas and Sar'een belong to drathe on tumblr

Paeris sat with Sar’een, a mage who had just come into her magic recently, and showed her how to dispel a barrier, a useful spell when exploring ruins.

“You see, there are still wards in those places that could cause damage; not just to people exploring the ruins, but to the ruins themselves,” he explained as he felt his mana flow and twist the small area of practice. The girl looked on in genuine interest, and it warmed his heart. Being a mage among the Dalish was all too isolating sometimes. It was good to be around another who understood.

“Paeris! PAERIS!” a shout resonated from across the camp.

“Who is that…Sorn?” Paeris watched as his sister’s friend came running full speed towards him, his face betraying tragedy.

“The hunting party in the Autini Valley were ambushed. Elain just rode in on the shemlen’s horse,” Sorn panted out.

"Is she alright?" Paeris asked, his stomach jumping around his insides.

"Jarren’s dead. Revas is badly hurt. He might die too. Elain wants you to come right now. Healer Deadra and Keeper Dashanna are on their way already," Sorn didn’t even finish before Paeris was running.

He got closer to the other side of the camp and heard keening. Oh no. Not now, Elain would never forgive me. She would kill him if he wasn’t there to help her best friend. To help the boy he used to throw in the lake. The boy who he helped put lizards in Elain’s bed. To help the man he now called a friend.

He saw Keeper Dashanna enter his sister’s little pavilion. The curtained entrance was open to let air in. He wished it wasn’t. He saw Revas now, laid out on her cot, pale, so pale. He walked in as if he were a ghost, his head floating and his mind unconscious of the movement around him.

"Paeris, I need you here," the Keeper called out to him, and he snapped out of his haze. Revas was still alive, and that’s all he needed. He pulled up his sleeves and let the mana channel through his hands. His fingertips overflowed with healing magic, bringing a cooling sensation that was all too familiar now from skirmishes like this. He brought the magic to Revas’ chest and worked over it, watching as the flesh crackled and twitched with the energy.

"Careful da’len, he’s very weak" Keep Dashanna warned, her voice low so as not to frighten the others in the pavilion. Paeris slowed the flow of his magic, ensuring it didn’t overwhelm his system. Slowly, he watched the blood flow halt, leaving only bits of bone and torn flesh. He knitted the bits back to his ribcage with his magic, but the flesh there and on his face would need sutured and stitched. Even magic had its limits.

\---------------------------------

When he and the Keeper were finally finished, it was deep into the night. Revas still slept, dosed with specially made potions to aid in healing while he did. The next days would be crucial. If he could get rest and strength and avoid a fever, he might make it. If not…well, if not, then they would be planning another funeral rite.

He finally saw Elain as he left the pavilion to get some rest. She sat on the ground next to the entrance, knees to her face, arms around her head. She looked like a child, like the little girl who was always pouting over some imagined slight. He sighed to himself and sat on the ground next to her as he used to.

"He’s resting now. We’ll know more on his condition tomorrow," his voice was soft.

She lifted her head and stared at him. Her gray eyes were swollen and bruised, her nose cut and broken. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head.

"I’m fine. Just took a beating," her voice sounded distant, as if she was in another place.

“What happened out there?”” Paeris asked, questing for some reason for this suffering.

“Slavers planning on taking in Dalish scouts and disappearing. Revas lost his temper, compromised the position. Jarren died from a hidden archer arrow. Quick. Rev and I got surrounded. We took the guys down, but one snuck up on me. An axe to the face would’ve killed me. Revas took the blow instead.”

She was clinical, emotionless. She was in shock. It was frightening. Paeris wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest.

“It’s okay, Elain. You did everything you could. Shemlen are not like us though. They will hunt and kill and subjugate for fortune without a second thought. You stopped any scouts from having a far worse fate,” he consoled her, rocking her in his arms.

“I know,” her voice cracked and hot tears poured down her face. He bent down and kissed her head.

“Why don’t you got get washed up and fed? Healer Deadra is supervising Rev now and of course his mother is there hovering over him,” he made the suggestion hoping it would relax her. Just bring her back.

She looked at him blankly. “He’ll be there when you get back,” he coaxed her, hand rubbing her back.

She merely nodded and stood up, walking away with a slight limp. Paeris stayed on the ground, overwhelmed and exhausted. It had been a long day.

“Is my little one alright?” Master Vhannas asked from the side of the pavilion, his arms crossed as he watched her walk away.

“No. She just lost a mentor and might lose her best friend. She has every right to be upset, father,” he answered, his voice shaking.

“That she does. But she must be strong. The Wilderness takes far more than old men and arrogant fools. She should be aware of that,” Vhannas said, his voice as cold as always.

“It wasn’t the Wilderness, father. It was shemlens,” he shot back, annoyed with his father’s lack of compassion.

“Shemlens are as much a part of the Wilderness as the ground itself. We cannot change nature, only adjust. She will learn,” Vhannas convinced himself. Paeris felt the fury building up in him, and couldn’t contain his heated response.

“It’s much easier to think of it that way, isn’t it? That it’s all part of the chaos of this world, that it can’t be changed. Then it’s easy for you when men like Revas die. His own fault for not taming the chaos, for not trusting in the divinity of the gods. But we know what it really is, don’t we? Layer as many excuses on it as you want. It all comes down to you trying to keep anything that might corrupt your little doll away. Even going as far as justifying undue suffering so that she stays moving on the path you’ve so graciously put on her. You’re just as at fault as the Wilderness.”

His father said nothing for a long time, his demeanor as stoic as usual. When Paeris had enough of his deafening silence, he stood up, dusted off his robes and began to walk away.

“You’re right, you know. But it can’t be helped. All I do, I do for her. I don’t expect you to understand.”

And with that, he was gone. He was right. Paeris didn’t understand. He doubted he ever would.


	3. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine hunting trip goes wrong, and Elain and Revas learn not all wounds are physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revas Lavellan belongs to drathe on tumblr.

The freezing water of the river cascaded down her body, making her wounded skin prickle and burn. The cuts and bruises she sustained were nothing compared to what Revas and Jarren endured. She would wear them with pride. It was still hard to breath with the broken nose, but she would live. She would live.

She dressed herself, slipping on a thick tunic over deerskin legging. Part of her wanted to put her armor back on, to feel that extra layer of security. Every shadow now could hold danger to her and the clan. Every person here could be plotting. Forty sovereigns is a lot of shemlen money. Enough to make an elf wealthy enough to buy a home.

She sighed deeply, realizing how silly her thoughts were turning. It was just a defense mechanism, her heart was trying to prevent her from thinking about all she lost today. And what she may still lose. She made her way back to the camp. It was far into the night and very few were still awake. Fires were low, and hunters stood guard against any more raids. She was thankful for the peace. It was better than listening to everyone mourn.

Her feet took her to her pavilion, tempted to hold vigil outside again. The entrance was now closed, probably to allow Revas some rest. It took all her willpower not to look in and make sure his chest still rose and fell with his breathing. She paced back and forth for awhile, paving a grooving path with her feet in the moist dirt.

“You cannot sleep,” a voice rang in the darkness.

“Papae,” Elain looked up and stopped her pacing.

“Hello my little one. I see you were wounded,” her father looked critically at her face.

“Nothing bad. It would’ve been an axe in my caved-in head if it weren’t for Revas,” she said, her voice drifting off and her head turned to where he lay sleeping in her pavilion.

“So I heard,” Vhannas muttered as he approached her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked at the clear night sky.

“Dashanna says your little friend is strong. He will probably survive,” he confided in her, eyes never leaving the sky.

“She did?” her voice cracked, overwhelmed with emotion. Vhannas looked away from the vast void and into her eyes. Her father was always a stoic man, content in his own thoughts, never allowing anyone in. But when he looked at her tonight, she saw vulnerablility.

“She did,” he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You must be more careful, little one. And tell your friend too. I cannot have my daughter and the future Maiden of the Hunt wounded over a fool’s anger.”

Elain chuckled and kissed her father’s cheek. “He’s not a fool, papae. And he saved my life. Accept that he is a good friend and a good hunter.”

“I would usually say that he must prove that to me, but today has been a sign of his loyalty,” he admitted. “Just remember that you are destined for things beyond his reach, little one. He cannot follow you everywhere.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

When she finally worked up the courage to enter the pavilion, she saw it empty but for Revas. She walked over to the cot holding him, and sat on the little stool left beside it. There was more color in his face now, but his skin was clammy to the touch. She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips, forever thankful for having the chance to be able to do so. He stirred next to her, his eyes fluttering open.

“Revas?” she whispered.

“Mmm..” he groaned and turned his head. “You had me worried Peach.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, spilling out and over and down her cheeks before she could turn her head away.

“I could say the same thing about you Shem’assan,” her chin quivered as she spoke. He looked pained to watch her, his face contorting and his eyes clenching shut.

“Jarren is dead because of me,” he said, his own voice breaking in anger, “I should’ve never shot that arrow.”

The tears flowed more freely for her now, the pain left unspoken now free, shaken loose like a pebble from a heel. She climbed onto the cot with him, careful not to cause him any more physical discomfort. Her hands stroked his hair and she pressed her lips to his ear.

“If you didn’t fire that arrow, the two archers who were watching us would’ve shot us all down when we snuck up on the two with the wagon. Or maybe not. We can never know. Jarren died, but we lived. We will do better for him next time,” she whispered comforting words to him, but also for herself.

Revas didn’t say anything else, but enclosed his hand in hers. They both fell into a dreamless sleep that night, exhausted in their souls.


	4. Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine hunting trip goes wrong, and Elain and Revas learn not all wounds are physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content in this chapter.

The training grounds were full of hunters and specialists alike that morning. The sound of steel blades clashing filled the empty plains leading into the Autini Valley. Shields made of yew and elm slammed against each other with excited grunts. Arrows flew into targets with renewed vigor as winter gave way to the full bloom of spring. The Dalish finally had reason to leave their warm tents and cots and refocus on their more martial pursuits.

Revas stood in the middle of a makeshift arena on the grounds; hard-packed dirt was ringed with smooth, mossed over stones, and surrounding it, a crowd of young hunters and apprentices cheering and jeering him alike. They stomped their feet and clapped in time as he circled his faltering opponent. The youth’s weariness was causing him to fight recklessly, lunging and jabbing when he should’ve been feinting and dodging.

“Have you had enough yet, da’len?” Revas taunted his opponent, stalking around the ring as a predator would hunt its prey.

The young man looked up, his face already bruising and swelling, but his eyes defiant.

“Stop prancing around like a peacock and come fight,” the elf spit out, blood on his teeth. He straightened himself, and lunged again towards Revas, all fury but no control.

The fool acted like a brawler but didn’t have the raw power to back it up.Revas easily avoided him, ducking and falling back into a defensive position. The elf swung at him high, his fist missing his temple. He saw his opening. He went in quick, hooking the other man’s jaw with his right fist, and then grabbed his lowered head to finish the fight. He brought his knee to his competitor’s chest with alarming force, causing the watching crowd to gasp in unison.

The elf fell backwards to the ground with a solid thunk, gasping for the air that was knocked from his lungs. The crowd of hunters erupted into cheers and chants, and they worked themselves into a frenzy over Revas’ third win in a row. He soaked in the victory and adulation by raising his fists in the air and kicking dust towards his fallen opponent.

As the friends of the fallen man helped him stumble his way out of the ring, Revas made his way to Sorn and sat next to him on one of the larger stones surrounding the arena. Sorn handed him a waterskin and he happily drunk deeply from it. He was elated, and more importantly, alive. The sun was on his face, the breeze was soft, and his heart pounded in his chest with adrenaline over his triumphant return from the brink of death. The water hit his throat, cool and clean, and he opened his eyes from his reverie just long enough to see her from across the ring.

She was watching the fights with some of the other huntresses, all of them wearing pelts of the white hare on their cloaks as a sign of their commitment to become Maiden of the Hunt. But only Elain wore beads in her thick, black hair that shone against the pure white fur, and only Elain’s eyes glowed gray against her golden skin, like sun shining through rain clouds, and only Elain had lips colored as if stained by dark wine. She smiled as she caught his eyes, and moved towards him with her little group.

“Did you hear me, Revas? This next guy is pretty big, but dumb as an ox. If you put money on —” Sorn realized his friend’s attention was fixed elsewhere and sighed, then punched his arm. “Fenedhis, not this again.”

“Not what again?” Revas asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

“This! You staring at Elain like a puppy,” Sorn complained. “Look, I know she helped take care of you while you were recovering from the ambush, but she’s going to be Maiden of the Hunt…”

“There are a dozen other huntresses competing; any one of them could become the Maiden,” Revas interrupted before he took another gulp from his water skin.

“She will be. You know she will be. Seven huntresses have already failed, and the rest will drop off one by one. And that means she’s off limits. The Maiden can’t marry, can’t have a lover, can’t have children, and can’t do anything but be The Maiden. There’s no use getting attached,” Sorn explained to him as if he were a child.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Revas dismissed him as his continued to stare at her weaving her way through the crowd with subtle authority. 

“Yeah, well, just watch yourself. If Paeris, or Creators have mercy, her father ever saw you staring at her like that, you’d be sent to some backwater clan in Orlais to train children how to point a bow for the rest of your days,” Sorn finished his lecture, trying to make his friend understand the danger.

What he didn’t know was that Revas was acutely aware of the danger. He’s been aware since that hot summer day in the meadows outside of Markham where he tasted her lips under the scorching sun. And in every stolen moment since then. If only his friend knew that he had been in danger from before they had gotten their Vallaslin, from before his father died, from before the ambush in Autini. If only he knew that Revas didn’t care.

“It’s none of your business who I stare at,” he replied with a quickening temper.

Sorn grunted, his own temperament turning sour, “Fine. Stare at who you want. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

“What are you two scowling at?” Elain asked as she approached them with her group.

“Nothing,” he replied, smiling at them. “Glad to see the Maiden acolytes taking time out to enjoy the sunshine.”

Elain smirked, and sat down on the stone next to her two friends. “How could we not with you running around shirtless, humiliating the other men, showing off your new scars? I do believe Nesta was ready to quit her Trials after seeing you fight.”

“Elain!” gasped one of the huntresses, her face turning bright red. “Why do you always have to embarrass me?”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t make it so easy to embarrass you,” her voice was honey over sand and she looked at Nesta as though she were insect to be crushed. “I thought you would’ve learned that after your dismal performance of the Broken Twine.” He felt his heart jump into his throat.

The huntress threw Elain a dark glare and stomped away, clearly not happy with being humiliated. The others in the group cast their eyes down and followed her, perhaps afraid of their own secrets being revealed.

“You did that on purpose,” he commented, his heart pounding its approval.

“She’s my competition, not my friend. It’s her own fault for letting herself be vulnerable,” she said without malice, but without warmth as well.

“You’re spending too much time with Revas. That sounds like something he would do,” Sorn broke in, a frown on his face.

“No, Rev would sabotage her weapons and blackmail her for sleeping with one of the halla herders. My way is crueler,” Elain chided him. “It also requires some intelligence.”

He laughed and leaned in closer to her, “I know you’re trying to insult me, but I happen to be undefeated this morning, so I’ll let it pass.”

A wide grin brightened her face, “How magnanimous of you!”

“Alright you two, that’s enough of that,” Sorn said as he rolled his eyes in irritation at the flirtation. “How is your training going, El?”, he attempted to change the subject.

She began discussing her work with Old Bida, the previous Maiden, but Revas heard very little of the conversation. His thoughts wandered to the past few weeks. He was severely injured, at his lowest point, grieving for his lost mentor while still being raw from the loss of his father only a year prior, blaming himself for all the death in his life. Elain was his pillar during that time. She visited him every day as he recovered, brought him treats, played games with him so he wasn’t bored, shooed away unwanted visitors when he needed to be alone. And showed him the new dances she learned in her Maiden initiation.

He often went to sleep at night with visions of her dances in his head. Her soft steps that rang with music of the beaded jewelry she wore on her ankles, wrists, and neck. Her thighs and calves flexing as she moved in time with the drum Aoife played for her while he watched. And when Aoife left and they were alone for a few precious moments, her hips swayed and rippled as she performed darker dances used for sacred ceremonies he wasn’t worthy to watch. It didn’t stop him from devouring her movements, etching each detail to memory, so that as his eyes drifted closed he could recreate the vision with her graceful body naked above him. It was the only thing that kept the nightmares at bay.

“By the Dread Wolf Revas, can you listen for one minute today!?” Sorn’s grating voice pulled him out of his reflections.

“Say something interesting, maybe I will,” he countered, annoyed with his friend’s pushing today. He willed him with his gaze to leave so he could be alone with Elain.

“I was saying that the guy you just pommeled is threatening to ‘put another hole in your chest’ if you don’t give him a rematch,” he huffed out, obviously getting impatient with him. “You can handle him by yourself if you want; I’m done with you today.” Sorn dropped from his spot on the rock and stalked out of the training grounds.

“What did you do to him?” Elain asked as they both watched him walk away.

“Nothing. He’s just been asking too many questions and not liking that I don’t have answers for him,” he said before finishing off his water. She looked at him pensively, no doubt trying to get to the bottom of his issues with Sorn. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but she thought better of it, and changed the subject instead.

“I came down here for a reason: I want to show you something,” she said as she rose from her seat.

“What is it?” He questioned. Her eyes glittered with excitement as she grabbed him by the elbow, urging him to come with her.

“A surprise.”

\---------------------------------------------

The pair had barely gotten into the nearby forest and away from the camp when Revas grabbed her hips and pulled her to him. Every step she took was torture; her bare legs sliding out from under her cloak with each stride, her hair shining in the sunlight breaking through the trees, her long neck flushed against the white fur on her cloak. All he could think about was tasting her lips, feeling her warmth. But when he brought her waist to his and leaned into her, her hands pressed against his chest and she turned her head away.

“Elain…please,” he begged, his forehead resting on her cheek. “It’s been so long.”

“Months. I know,” she said as she pulled herself out of his arms, “but what I have to show you is very important.”

She turned away and started walking again, her demeanor cold and distant. Her chatter with him stopped completely, and they traveled to their destination in silence now. He wondered if he had done something wrong, said something wrong. Did the ambush and his injury change her opinion of him? Was she no longer interested in him once she had seen his vulnerability? Did things change when she turned from partner and friend to nursemaid as he recovered from his failure? Questions burned his mind as new doubts unfolded with surprising clarity.

And doubt he did. Before the ambush, he was brash and headstrong, even reckless. Now, every step was over-thought, every action second guessed. He hadn’t been on a proper hunt since it happened, too nervous to even pick up a bow. His time was now occupied in little tasks; fixing and tweaking his armor over and over again, helping his mother with the halla, and most recently, fighting anyone who challenged him. Out of all of them, fighting was the only thing that made him feel like his old self. The blood, the pain, the rush of winning. Everything else drifted away.

Now Elain was drifting away too.

The thought of losing something with her hurt him more than he anticipated. She was a spoiled brat who infuriated him at worst and merely annoyed him at best as they grew up. But he wouldn’t want to lose that. It was precious to him now. As he watched her lead him to her surprise, his anxiety over what to say, what to do to keep her, overwhelmed him. The pain of a fight was easier than this. The pain of an axe in the chest was easier.

“We’re almost there,” she said, breaking his chain of thought. They were approaching a small grove of redwood trees, ancient sentinels towering over the forest. A blanket of small white flowers bloomed around them, with butterflies and bees darting to and fro, collecting the pollen each delicate stamen held. A decaying trunk of a fallen tree lay across the grove, a reminder of death amongst the vibrancy of life.

Elain led him into the grove, heading towards the great dead tree. She paused to take off her cloak and hang it on a nearby branch. Underneath, she wore a simple linen dress, loose except for where she cinched the fabric around her waist with a leather belt. She walked to the edge of the tree, her bare feet stepping on the delicate flowers and grass. He thought that she had never looked more beautiful and his heart ached.

The dead tree was hollow, and Elain gestured for him to come closer. As he approached, he saw her bend down inside the hollow trunk and pull out a something covered by a wool blanket. He bent down next to her to look closer on it. She passed it to him reverently, as if it were a gift to a god.

He pulled the blanket back, and underneath found the most beautifully crafted bow he had ever seen. It was composite, its core made from ironbark. The belly of the bow was lined with halla horn, the sinew from a deer native to the Autini Valley. The grip was wrapped in soft deerhide, and there was a knocked sight for aiming. In the face, intricate carvings of halla and hunters done in a traditional way ran from the tip to the recurve. On the back of the upper limb, small words were carved in:

Bend, but never break.

The mantra of the Vir Bor’Assan, the Way of the Bow.

“You made this,” he deduced as he ran awe-struck fingers over the weapon.

“I did,” she responded curtly. “For you.”

He looked up at her in confusion, “Why?”

She kneeled and sat next to him. “ We promised to do better after the ambush, but neither of us has followed through. I think you’ve felt too afraid, and I’ve felt too disattached. I can’t take my attention off my Trials, but I thought maybe I could help you. So I made this.”

Her hand reached out and rested on his, guiding it over the bow. “The designs are traditional themes: hunters riding halla, holding spears and bows. The ironbark is strong, but flexible. The halla horn will give you more velocity as you fire your shot…”

Her fingertips ran gently over his and her voice became soft. “The phrase is to help you remember: bend, but never break. It’s alright to be scared, to be fearful, to feel lost. These things will give you strength. And that strength will keep you whole.”

He didn’t feel strong. His heart ached, his chest ached, and the overwhelming crush of realization made it hard to even breathe. She looked at him with eyes full of expectation, waiting for him to comment on the masterpiece she poured her heart and soul into.

“I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you. It means more to me than I could ever describe,” his voice drifted off as he poured over the weight of the bow in his hands and the weight of a new burden in his heart.

He loved her.

He loved her, he loved her, he loved her, he fucking loved her. Every smile, every frown, every temper tantrum, every word she whispered, every hair on her beautiful head, he loved her. It hit him harder than the axe ever could, tearing his breath from him, impaling him with pain.

She must have expected a different response from him, and she smiled at him sadly. She went to rise from her position on the ground with him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Stay,” he said softly, a request, not a command. Nodding her head, she climbed onto his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. He set his new bow to the side and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair to inhale its perfume. It smelled of wood and fire and the amber her father procured for her at great expense. It was wild and soft, just like her. Her fingers trailed up and down his scar on his chest, still ragged and raw. Everything was still raw.

Tell her. Tell her you idiot. Tell her before you lose your nerve and you let her go and you hurt yourself and her because of your stupid pride. His admonishments came fast and cutting. It was now or never. He took her chin gently in his hand and tilted it upwards. His forehead met hers, noses touching, lips so close. Now or never.

“I love you,” he finally said, the heavy weight lifting from his chest. Her eyes fluttered and her lips parted, and their mouths met in a hungry union, deprived of each other for too long. Lips were soft but insistent, and their mouths opened to let the wet, hot tips of tongues touch. Their heads tilted as they eagerly let each other in, and Elain’s arms flew around his neck to pull him even closer.

He set her in the grass, her hair flaring out amongst the white flowers, her face flushed. She pulled him down to her, lips crashing into lips, her hands stroking his ears. He leaned back again and let his own hands graze her sides and climb under her dress, touching the soft skin underneath. Her thighs shook as his fingertips stroked them, starting from the outside and working his way inwards. He worked little circles into her soft inner thighs, feeling heat emanate off her and into him. He moved his mouth to the area just above her knee, and dragged his lips slowly to the sensitive skin his fingertips played with. Her inner thighs were moist and warm, and he flicked them with his tongue to taste the sweetness there. Her legs squeezed tightly together and she whimpered at the teasing.

She was still wearing the linen dress, but he wanted to see all of her. He pulled his mouth away from its work long enough to undo the leather belt on her waist, and to pull the dress over her head. She wiggled forward to help him to do, and when she lay exposed before him, he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. Tips of his fingers slid over her stomach, and she moaned quietly. He watched in earnest as gooseflesh formed all over her, tiny bumps of sensation across her skin. He brought his mouth to her hips and kissed them tenderly. She squirmed and moaned, her hands grasping at his hair. The exploration of her body continued however, him discovering new things at every turn.

Like how her stomach dipped as she took in a breath when he ran his tongue around her naval. Or how her back arched when he grasped her ribs and pulled his mouth to her breasts. She gasped and pulled his hair as his hands massaged her breasts, urging him to continue. He took one nipple into his mouth, and sucked on it lightly, lathing his tongue over the tip in slow, languid motions. The other he placed between two fingers and rolled it, feeling it harden to a little peak, dark pink and dusky on her freckled skin. “Revas…” she moaned as her hips rose into the air towards him, searching for some release.

In her quest for release, her hand worked down his chest, down his stomach, until she reached his cock that was now painfully pressing against the leather of the leggings he wore. She turned her palm inward, and in slow, agonizing strokes, moved her hand up his length. He gritted his teeth and groaned into her chest, and she decided to slip her other hand down the front of his pants to rub his tip as the other hand worked his shaft with her palm. His hips starting to move along with her, his eyes closing at the sensation of her working him over.

When she leaned forward and began kissing and sucking on his neck as he thrust into her skilled hands, he nearly lost himself. He pulled himself away, and quickly began to undo the laces on his leggings. She sat up to help him, drawing his mouth into hers and they both worked the ties, and when he was finally free, he was surprised to feel her pushing him backwards toward the ground. Her hands were insistent so he followed her will, looking up as she straddled his lap now. Not content to just take him, she began grinding her wet slit up and down his cock, concentrating on rubbing her clit against the tip.

He moaned aloud and lifted his hips to meet her, overwhelmed by the heat pressing against him. Unable to take more, he grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto him, filling her with one thrust. She cried out and grabbed onto his hands, intertwining his fingers into hers. Biting down on her lip, she began to move against him, her hips fluid and hypnotic. She squeezed his hands every time he pressed against her sensitive spots, and he watched in wonder as her breasts bounced and swayed with her movements.

Her rocking hips began to move faster and faster, and he felt her clenching around him, making him grab onto her hips and guide her. He sat forward and brought his mouth to her neck as she rode him to her orgasm, sucking and biting as she ground into him aggressively. “Yes…yes…yes..” she chanted over and over again, pulling on his hair hard as she crested in release. Her entire body arched into him and he held onto her tight, trying to focus on not following her.

It didn’t work however, as she tugged his hair back and forced him to look at her. She brought her mouth to his, taking his lips in her teeth as she continued to ride him intensely, even after her own release. Pressure built in him, a knot begging to be release, and as she panted into his mouth and bruised his lips, he drew her down on him faster. She squealed in delight and dug her nails into his back as she climaxed again from his unrelenting pace.  
The clenching was too much to take, her spasming walls baring down on him, and she pulled his own orgasm out with hers, making him groan and gasp for air. Hot wetness seeped between them as her hips slowly rose and fell, riding the waves of the release after months of waiting.

They panted and held each other, slow strokes, warm lips on tingling skin. She carefully ran her hands down the new scar on his face, her eyes heavy-lidded and sad.

“What’s wrong Peach?” he asked in between kisses on her chin and neck.

“I love you too,” she said quietly as she laid her head on his chest.

They spent the afternoon making up for lost time, and pretending that the future didn’t matter.

\-----------------------------------------------------

The next day, Revas stepped into the plains, and reviewed the land. Lavender swayed in the fields, filling the air with their medicinal scent. Large brontos grazed on the sweet green grass of spring, content in their safety. He felt the weight of his bow on his back and the breeze against his skin.The land was alive again.

He drew the bow and let his arrow fly, watching it hit one of the bronto in the neck. The beast bucked and ran, then slowed, then fell dead. Revas was alive again.


End file.
